The Deadly Art of Deception

by Linda Crowder

  “Do you make everything into a joke?” He tipped my chin up so I couldn’t help but look at him. Through sheer force of will, I managed to hold myself still. His eyes were the most amazing gray, tinged just a bit with blue. A girl could lose herself in a pair of eyes like that. I forced myself to look away, and he went out into the street, turning toward the marina. The drizzle had become a torrent, and I wondered if the cruise ship, the lights of which were barely visible, would cancel its excursions. If they did, maybe he would be back. The thought brought I smile to my face, then I frowned, remembering his lie about Mr. Shoes. Frank Baker might be wicked sexy, but he was hiding something from me and it would be safer if I kept him at a distance until I found out what it was.

  Fridays were always busy at The Broken Antler, even when it wasn’t raining as it had been all day long. Friday had been my best sales day ever since the second season, when this particular line started calling at Coho Bay. I don’t know what was different about that cruise line, but their passengers came on shore ready, even eager, to buy. They were a shopkeeper’s dream and ‘Thank God, it’s Friday’ had taken on new meaning for me. Taylor joined me in the gallery shortly before the first tender docked, and we’d been run off our feet all day. We didn’t even have time to slip down to Mel’s to grab lunch. Instead, we raided the supply of energy bars I kept in the backroom for days like this. When the ship’s whistle blew at four, beckoning cruisers to the last tender, the gallery finally emptied. Locking the door behind the last customer, I slumped against it.

  “It’s been a day, hasn’t it?” Taylor asked. Her face bore a reflection of my own exhaustion, though without my underlying happiness at knowing I’d earned both my artists and me a good amount of money this day.

  “I can’t believe how many pieces we sold. I’ll have to crunch the numbers, but it might just be the best day we’ve ever had. Kenny’s gonna have a full boat tomorrow, that’s for sure.”

  Taylor pulled the cash drawer open and started counting money, checking the amounts against the register report. “Sheesh!” she said, filling out a deposit slip and tucking the money into a bank bag. “I had no idea the gallery had become so successful.”

  I joined her at the counter, and she handed me the report. “Fridays are always good, but we really have done well this year. You should know that, considering the size of the deposits I’ve made to Johnny’s account this summer.”

  Taylor handed me the bag. “I can’t touch Johnny’s money. I don’t even get a statement.”

  “The estate hasn’t settled yet? What’s the holdup?”

  Taylor didn’t answer. She walked over to stand in front of Johnny’s paintings. “I wish he could know he could have made a living with his art.”

  “Was there any doubt?”

  “Jack thought Johnny ought to be making something substantial, like furniture, instead of painting nice little pictures for old women. He painted as much as he could over the winters, but Jack made sure he was too busy and too tired in the summer. When Johnny quit working so he could concentrate on his painting, Jack went ballistic.”

  “What’d he say? No, wait. It’s none of my business.”

  “He threw Johnny out of the house. Of course, Johnny didn’t care, because he had the island. His mother left him the property free and clear when she died, but he’d just rented it out.”

  “I remember you two fixing it up after you got married, but I never knew Johnny moved out there because he and Jack had been fighting. I always thought they were close.” I sighed. “I feel responsible since I was the one who pestered him to let me exhibit his paintings.”

  Taylor looked at me, her eyes misty. “You were the first person to believe in him. That meant everything.”

  “You’re the one who made it possible for him to follow his dream. I just gave him a way to have his work seen.”

  Taylor walked up to one of the paintings and ran her fingers along the frame. “Would it be so horrible if you didn’t sell this one?”

  The painting depicted the view from the island, looking toward town. It captured his love for his birthplace while celebrating the natural beauty that drew tourists to Coho Bay. I thought it was the best painting he’d done, completed only weeks before he died. If I were Taylor, I’d want to keep it too. “It wouldn’t be horrible at all.”

  “I feel him here.” Tears streamed down her cheeks as she leaned her head against the frame.

  I stood awkwardly, not knowing whether I should comfort her or if that would be an intrusion. I’d only seen Taylor cry that one time on the pier right after Johnny died. She’d kept an iron grip on her emotions afterward, and it had raised a few eyebrows around town. She hadn’t wanted to go back to the house, so I’d given her the use of my apartment and had gone to stay in Mel’s guest room. If she’d cried alone at night, I didn’t know. She had left town before snow flew.

  As those memories played in my head, Taylor took a tissue from her pocket and wiped her eyes. “Sorry to dump on you like this.”

  “We’ll get it moved to the house as soon as you’re settled.”

  There was a knock at the door, and I went to open it. Dan stepped into the entry, dripping wet. “I don’t have to ask if it’s still raining,” I greeted him. “Can I take your coat?”

  “Not gonna stay that long. I just wanted to ask you and Ms. Lennon about those men you saw.”

  “How did you hear about them?” I asked as Taylor joined us at the door. Dad and I had built the entry big enough to accommodate ten people taking off coats and hanging up wet umbrellas. Gallery owners we’d spoken to in other port cities had warned us that there needed to be plenty of space because people weren’t always willing to wait. It was odd that with just the three of us, the entry was feeling cramped.

  Dan was slow to answer. “Mel told me.”

  “There was only one man.” Taylor’s voice sounded surprisingly crisp, considering her tears only moments ago. “In a black raincoat with his hood pulled low.”

  “Frank has a black hooded raincoat. I noticed it today,” I said, feeling a twinge of guilt as though I were ratting him out.

  “You don’t think it could have been Frank?” asked Taylor, eyes wide.

  “What about your guy, Cara?” Dan asked, looking at me and ignoring her.

  “You have a guy?” asked Taylor.

  “It was nothing,” I assured her. “I didn’t want you to worry.”

  “Is that why you started locking the door?”

  “You’re locking your door?” asked Dan. “I thought you said it was nothing.”

  I held up my hands, feeling like a Ping-Pong ball trapped between them. “Ask Frank. He saw the guy from my apartment, and then he went down to talk to him, though this morning he claimed the guy was gone when he got there.”

  “Frank was in the apartment?” asked Taylor. “When was this?”

  “The night Jack went off on you at Mel’s. Look, Dan, I didn’t see anything but the guy’s feet, standing over there.” I nodded toward city hall.

  “So did Frank talk to him or didn’t he?” asked Dan.

  “That’s the weird part.”

  “That’s the weird part?” asked Taylor, but I ignored her.

  “After he left, I looked out and saw that one set of feet had been joined by a second. Of course, I assumed it was Frank, but he says not.”

  “When did you talk to Frank?” asked Taylor.

  “I ran into him this morning on the way back from Mel’s,” I told Taylor. I massaged the back of my neck, which had grown sore as the conversation went on.

  Dan stepped out the door, letting in the sound and scent of the rain. “I’ll check it out. You ladies call me if you see either of them again.”

  “Even on Thursday?” asked Taylor.

  “Don’t be a wise guy,” he told her and disappeared into the storm.

  I shrugged into my raincoat and went back to the counter to get the deposit bag. “Let’s go see what Bent made for dinner.”

>   Taylor picked up one of the bright yellow umbrellas stamped with the Coho Bay Merchant Association logo that I kept by the door. I found them garish, but only a few of them seemed to disappear every year, so the color served its purpose. We dropped off the deposit at the bank and splashed across the street to Mel’s. Despite our raincoats and the ugly umbrella, we were soaked to the skin by the time we made it to our barstools.

  “Most people go around the puddles instead of through them,” said Mel, shaking her head at us. She poured me a cup of coffee and put hot water and a selection of tea bags in front of Taylor.

  “Most people don’t have any fun,” I retorted. Taylor giggled, and I cradled my cup in my hands until feeling returned to my half-frozen fingers.

  “Snowing yet?” Mel asked.

  “It feels cold enough, but it’s still rain.”

  “I hope the snow holds off till next week.”

  “I don’t know. Snow didn’t hurt sales last season.”

  “For you, maybe. I was stuck with a diner full of people nursing coffee and staring out the window.”

  “What’s for dinner?” Taylor asked, breaking into the banter. She knew Mel and I could go on for hours if not interrupted. “It smells amazing.”

  “End of season stew,” answered Mel as she headed into the kitchen.

  “What in the heck is ‘end of season stew,’ or is it one of those things that’s better if I don’t ask?”

  I jumped at the sound of Frank’s voice close to my elbow. “Where’d you come from?” One side of his mouth turned up in a half smile that sent my pulse racing. Liar, liar, liar, I chanted to myself to counter the physical reaction his nearness was setting off in me. Keep your distance, Cara. Oh, but he smelled good, with the scents of the bay and the rain mixed up with something indefinably masculine. I shook my head to break the spell.

  “St. Paul, originally. Tonight I’m running late. Had to hose out the boat.”

  Neither Taylor nor I wanted to hear the rest of that story. Sometimes hapless cruisers assumed their ability to manage the calm water of the Inner Passage, while riding on a ship the size of an aircraft carrier meant they would have sea legs in a cabin cruiser on a choppy bay. I felt bad for them, but the result made me glad I worked in a gallery instead of on a boat. I decided to ignore his excuse and answer his question. “End of season stew is what you’d think it would be. Bent clearing out leftovers.”

  “Sounds... appetizing.”

  “It tastes better than it sounds.”

  “Has he thought about end-of-season pizza instead? I eat just about anything if you put it on pizza.”

  “As a matter of fact, that does sound good.” We looked up to find Mel standing in front of us with two bowls of stew. “I’ll mention it to Bent.”

  “Tell him I’ll taste-test for him.”

  “I’ll do that. I think he has some cabbage burgers left if you don’t want stew.”

  “Why don’t you just bring me whatever you want to get rid of?” This inspired a peal of laughter from Taylor, who knew from experience not to give Bent so large an opening. He looked from her to me. “What am I missing?”

  “Nothing,” I said, kicking Taylor under the counter. “Bring him the stew, Mel.”

  “You take all my fun away,” said Taylor with a mock pout.

  “To go?” asked Mel. When Frank gave her a puzzled frown, she added, “You’re just standing there. Wait, you’re not into that new stand-up-to-eat craze are you?” She turned to me. “Would you believe I had a couple ask me where the standing area was? They said it’s all the rage. You actually choose to stand up while you eat, can you imagine? Like a horse! Why would people do that?”

  Shaking her head at the oddities of people who lived anywhere other than Coho Bay, Mel left to get bread for us and stew for Frank. When she returned, she placed the bread between Taylor and me and looked at Frank. “You aren’t really gonna stand, are you?”

  “I’ll give it a go,” he said, winking at me. Mel put his stew bowl down and grabbed a set of silverware from a bin behind the counter.

  “Don’t mind me if I run over you.” She brushed past him to get into the dining room to bus a table. Before she could finish cleaning it, three men sat down. She greeted them warmly and pushed past Frank again to get to the kitchen with their order.

  “Scoot over, Tay,” I said. “If we don’t want Mel channeling her inner linebacker, we’d better make room for Frank.”

  Taylor gave me a look, then got off her stool, moved it over as far as it would go, and climbed back up. I followed suit, and Frank was mostly out of Mel’s way when she sailed out of the kitchen with a tray of food. She dropped bread and a bowl of stew in front of him as she passed.

  “Busy tonight,” said Frank, watching her go.

  It was disappointing to have the old, dreary Frank back. I kind of liked the superhero, but if he was going to lie to me, it was probably safer that he went back to being boring. “Did Dan talk to you?”

  “What about?”

  “Mr. Shoes.”

  “Oh. Yeah. Not much to say.”

  “Only what the guy told you when you talked to him.”

  Frank’s spoon faltered. “I told you this morning I never talked to him.”

  “That’s what you said.”

  He put down his spoon. “Meaning?”

  “Meaning I saw you.”

  “You saw me. Talking to a pair of shoes.”

  “You know what I mean. You left to confront him, and I saw two sets of shoes under the awning.”

  “Table opened up, Frank,” Mel said as she traded our empty stew bowls for ones full of vanilla ice cream. She nodded toward the window. “Why don’t you sit down, and I’ll bring your dessert out in a minute?”

  Frank opened his mouth but must have thought better of it. “Ladies,” he said, nodding to us. He picked up his napkin and silverware and headed over to the vacant table.

  “I don’t get it,” I said to Taylor, keeping my voice low. “Why does he keep lying?”

  “Maybe he doesn’t want to scare you.”

  “Why would I be scared?”

  Taylor looked over my shoulder. “He’s watching us.”

  I resisted the urge to look. “I don’t care.”

  She stopped looking at Frank and popped a spoonful of ice cream into her mouth. “You don’t have a lot to choose from up here though.”

  “He lied to me.”

  Taylor ate another spoonful, her face thoughtful. “I wonder what he really told dapper Dan.”

  I think I may have snorted ice cream through my nose. Not pleasant. “Don’t call him that. Somebody’s gonna hear you.”

  “They call him worse things behind his back.”

  “I’ve never heard anybody call him names.”

  Taylor looked at me, her expression a touch condescending. I’d seen that look on her face before, the first time I met her. I’d gone to a party, and my date had abandoned me for another girl. She’d asked me what was wrong, and when I’d told her, she’d given me this look that was slightly superior, slightly amused and something else that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. From that day to this, I hadn’t seen that look directed at me again, and I didn’t like seeing it now.

  “Nobody’s going to call him anything in front of you, Cara. I bet you don’t hear half the crap they say about me.”

  Now, there she was wrong. I’d heard what people said about Taylor when she married Johnny, and far uglier, what they’d said after he died and she left Coho Bay. If people were talking about Dan, I would have heard it. I didn’t want to hurt her feelings, so instead of arguing the point, I changed the subject. “What did Dan want to talk to you about the other day?”

  Her eyes became shielded. “Are you ready to go or are you going to stay and help Mel?”

  Without waiting for an answer, she jumped off her stool and headed for the door. I watched, trying to force my mouth closed as she stopped at the entry only long enough to put on her raincoa
t and pick up a yellow umbrella. Without looking back, she was gone. Movement by the window attracted my attention. Frank was up and heading for the door. He didn’t appear to be in any hurry, but he didn’t as much as turn his head on his way out. He grabbed his raincoat and pushed out the door only a few steps behind Taylor.

  Mel came up beside me. “What’s up with that?”

  “I have no idea.” I grabbed a gray tub and a wet cloth from behind the counter and went out into the dining room, piling dishes into the tub and washing off tables as they emptied.

  It was almost closing time when it struck me that Taylor didn’t have a key to the apartment. I’d found mine, but I hadn’t made one for her because I knew she would be leaving soon and we were always together. Why hadn’t she come back when she’d realized she was locked out? Taylor could be stubborn and proud, but standing in the pouring rain in the dark, especially when she’d been so scared only the night before would have been too much even for her. Maybe she hadn’t locked the door when she’d left the apartment to come to the gallery. Of course that must be it.

  I walked back to the kitchen, still thinking about Taylor and wondering why Frank had followed her. He hadn’t come back either. Bent and Mel broke apart when I entered, both of their faces turning red. “Don’t be embarrassed, you guys. Married people are allowed to kiss. I have to go check on Tay.” I dropped my soiled apron in the hamper.

  “What’s the matter with Taylor?” asked Bent. His voice sounded normal, and most of the red had faded from his cheeks.

  “She took off in a huff after dinner and hasn’t been back.”

  “Why would she come back?” asked Mel.

  “She doesn’t have a key.”

  “Since when do you lock your door?” asked Bent.

  “Since two days ago. Sheesh, where have you been?” I headed through the dining room to pick up my raincoat. I was glad I’d worn the lined one, but it wouldn’t be long before I’d have to trade my raincoat for my winter jacket. It felt colder than the thermometer at the bank read, what with the humidity and the wind coming off the bay. I wished I’d thought to put my gloves in my pockets.